The First and Last Visit
by Rage Aomori
Summary: The night the Dark Lord Voldemort paid a fateful and fatal visit to the Potters. The last thoughts of James and Lily Potter. Dramatic, eh?


((Hello, one and all. This little idea struck me in the noggin when I was calmly sipping my beloved coffee whilst reading a few Harry Potter books. The title says it all. I think))  
  
  
  
The First, and Last, visit.  
  
  
  
The red, burning light of sundown shone on the quite, sleepy town of Godric's Hollow. Their mothers called in those few children playing in the village. A few dogs barked, and a few cats meowed. A lone raven perched upon the power lines near a certain house croaked unconcernedly. The shadows spread and lengthened as night drew nearer.  
  
With a very small pop, a figure garbed in black, neat robes appeared on the walkway to one of the small, faintly lit houses. It shook out its robes, tried to smooth down the spiky, scruffy mess that was probably its hair, and proceeded to the front entrance.  
  
It knocked on the door, fumbled with a long, pointy something for a few moments in the oncoming darkness, and with a mumbled word and little tap with the long, pointy something entered the house.  
  
The woman standing in the hallway saw the door open and watched with amusement as a black haired, bespectacled head poked in.  
  
"Lily? I'm home, if you want to know…"  
  
Lily laughed as James Potter stepped inside and shut the door behind him, locking it with the wand that was behind his back.  
  
"Hello, love. I brought that little thing you wanted. It's right here… I think… somewhere… wait, hold on a minute…"  
  
Lily giggled as she watched her messy-haired husband rummage through the bag that was hanging at his side. Several oddments fell out, from a bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, to a few boxes of, strangely enough, Sneezing Powder. A small jar with a tadpole within toppled to the floor with a soft thump, followed closely by two humming furballs. Finally, after several minutes of rummaging, muffled exclamations, and a bagful of oddities, James' head reappeared, a triumphant smile on his face, which was mingled with a kind of happy relief.  
  
"Got it! Here you go… why are you laughing?" he looked to Lily, who was nearly bent double with giggles, with a somewhat hurt look on his fair face, not minding the stray lock of hair that crept down to hang over his eye. In one hand he held a rather large package of diapers. How they managed to fit in his bag, one couldn't say.  
  
"I'm sorry dear… but, you just looked so funny!" she bent to retrieve the little jar of frogspawn, still giggling. "You seem to have dropped this, dear…" she held out the jar. James grinned and set it back into his bag. Just as Lily turned to go, he seized her around the waist and pulled her close. They looked into each other's eyes before James gave her one deep, passionate, rather long kiss. Then he let her go and traipsed into the kitchen, grinning, leaving a stunned and blushing Lily standing in the entry hall, clutching a bag of diapers.  
  
*  
  
"Hello Harry. How are you today, eh?"  
  
James grinned and picked up his son. Harry was rather small, even for a baby. He had a thatch of jet-black hair, rather like his father's. And it stuck up just the same way, as Lily was fond of saying.  
  
Little Harry cooed and tugged on a lock of James' own hair, receiving an 'ouch' in return. He giggled.  
  
"James? Oh, here… it's your turn to change him today…" Lily had wandered into the small living room to watch father and son. She now handed over a diaper and a bottle of baby powder to the taller man. James sighed.  
  
"So… how is Sirius? I hope he's well…" Lily leant against the wall as she watched James try to unpin Harry's diaper. The child was squirming, giggling, and flailing arms and legs got in the way of his father's job.  
  
"He's fine. He told me that they switched the Secret Keeper." He dodged a flying foot just as he tossed the soiled napkin into a nearby waste bin.  
  
"Who's the Keeper now?"  
  
"Peter."  
  
"Why did they switch? I'm sure Sirius would have been able to escape the Dark Lord…"  
  
James looked up briefly to his wife. He had trouble getting the diaper off, now he had trouble getting it on the squirming baby. Lily leant against the wall, fiddling with one of her deep red locks. She was petite, lithe, and beautiful. Her sunset red hair fell down around her shoulders in soft waves. Her skin was a wonderful creamy color, contrasting perfectly with her full, pink lips and her brilliant green eyes which now where slightly troubled. James knew that they didn't really look like a good couple. He had messy black hair, deep brown eyes, and was at least a good foot taller than Lily. He was rather glad he never met Lily's sister, what with all the things he had heard about her and her husband, Vernon Something-or-other…  
  
"He wanted to switch because he said, in his own words, 'the Dark Lord will never think to look for HIM. I doubt anyone would expect Peter to bee the Secret Keeper, would they?'"  
  
Lily laughed. "That sounds just like Sirius. Even after all this time, he's never changed. Still willing and ready to slip a Dungbomb into my purse… even you…" she sighed and closed her eyes, remembering.  
  
She had met James and Sirius on the Hogwarts Express. There were no other seats available in any other compartments. No others except for theirs. She had a fun time with them, although she had never let them know that. Sirius, with all his strange jokes, and James, with his sly tricks. Both made an excellent, and greatly feared, team. Then came Remus and Peter. The Marauders.  
  
Peter was a rather short, plump little boy. Blond haired, a bit clumsy, and none too bright. It took hours of tutoring from Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus in order for him to actually get by, for his grades weren't all that good. He also needed a bit of protection, being the most teased and bullied by the Slytherin's.  
  
Remus. He was kind, and helpful. Rather handsome too, what with his light brown hair and his pale gray eyes so filled with knowledge. He was quiet, hardly ever speaking. And whenever he was spoken to, he always blushed, and tried to get away. The others had of course noticed his monthly leavings. Having a werewolf for a friend was rather fun, or so Sirius and James believed. Lily might have considered falling in love with him, if it weren't for the fact that he had the ability to acquire a stutter when approached by the opposite sex, and was a notorious blusher.  
  
"Yeah. You know… I STILL wonder where Sirius got that bike… Wish I had one like that…"  
  
"James!"  
  
"Kidding, kidding…"  
  
James let out an exclamation of triumph. He held up the wriggling Harry. He had finally managed to finish his job.  
  
*  
  
"It's really dark out. I think there might be a storm tonight. Perhaps we should try and invite Sirius to stay for the night. It looks bad…"  
  
Lily stared out the living room window, her nose almost pressed to the glass. James stood behind her, a cooing, still awake Harry squirming in his arms.  
  
"Maybe. But I think he might go check on Peter first. I still can't believe that they switched to Peter instead!" James shook his head, remembering. Peter wasn't exactly the most clever, or bravest, student in Hogwarts.  
  
"Hmm… you should put Harry to bed, you know…"  
  
"Wait! Who's that? Look… look over there. There's someone coming down the path…" James looked out the window, ignoring his wife's puzzled look.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Here. Take him… he's trying to get my glasses… there."  
  
James handed Harry over to Lily and looked out the window. The figure was now halfway up the walk, and was quickly approaching the porch.  
  
"James? Who is it? Is it Sirius? Peter?" a faint note of fear had crept into her voice. Harry seemed to sense something, for he began to squirm restlessly, and made little noises that signaled an oncoming squall.  
  
"I don't think so… it's taller… I think… wait… oh, God…"  
  
"James? James? What is it? James?" Lily had now acquired a full note of fear and a bit of panic in her voice. It was high, slightly squeaky, and very shaky. Harry yelled.  
  
"It's Him! It's the Dark Lord…"  
  
"What?"  
  
James had taken her free hand and was leading her into the kitchen. Harry squalled, frightened. Hysterics threatened to overwhelm Lily. She felt the slightly larger, warm, soft hand of her husband, and she swallowed down her fear as best as she could. James turned to face the entrance hall. At that moment, there was a sound like a small blast, and their front door burst inwards, blown off its hinges, smoking. Lily did her best to smother a scream. Harry cried even more.  
  
Standing in the doorway was a figure; tall, dark, a slightly glowing wand in its hand. It radiated what some would call evil. To the Potter's, it radiated Death. The hand with the wand raised itself, casting a faint, sickly light into the depths of a cowl. A face, a horrible, white, face, with slits for nostrils and eyes of red, stared out at them, a look of sadistic glee in it.  
  
"It's Him! Run, Lily! Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off…"  
  
"NO! James…"  
  
"Lily! Go. Just GO!"  
  
With a strangled sob, Lily ran for the kitchen, for the back door that just might be their salvation. She cast one last look behind her. One last look at her brave, willing husband.  
  
James stood, feet apart, wand raised and ready, his back straight and his shoulders set. His black hair ruffling in the wind that came from the open door, the lights of the house and the light from their wands glinting off his glasses and in his eyes. Lily ran on.  
  
That was the last she or Harry ever saw of James Potter.  
  
*  
  
James stood, ready, and waiting, his wand raised, a dozen or so useful spells running about in his head. Oh, how he wished that Sirius was here. Better yet, Dumbledore. But now, it was useless. The Dark Lord himself stood upon the blackened remains of the Potter's door in their entrance hall.  
  
The Dark Lord was speaking, but James paid no heed. His thoughts were on Lily and Harry. He prayed that they were able to escape. Oh, how he prayed. His thoughts were pulled back to the present situation as the words of a spell reached James' ears. A jet of red sparks had issued from Lord Voldemort's wand, and was very quickly descending upon him.  
  
James leapt to the side, and loosed his own attack. "Stupefy!" A jet of blue met with red, and there was, for a moment, a brilliant explosion that showered both wizards with gold and green sparks.  
  
"Crucio." The blast of red struck James full in the stomach, and he went down, gasping. A pain struck him. He screamed. A terrible, burning pain, the feeling that someone was trying to pull his bones out of his body, the burning of a fire on his skin, the pain of a thousand knives burrowing into his sides, his stomach…  
  
Then it was over. He lay panting for several seconds before he leapt to his feet to face his opponent. Voldemort was laughing, a high, cold laugh, cruel. He pointed his wand at James, and cried out those dreaded, last words that every person hears when faced against him. James knew…  
  
Images flashed before his eyes: Remus Lupin, laughing, joining him and Sirius in their latest plan of mischief; Peter Pettigrew, smiling at him, thanking him for help on his homework, or for saving him from another abominable band of Slytherins; Harry… little Harry, cooing, trying to examine his father's shiny glasses, wanting to see how a blade of grass tastes like, whether or not it will make a lovely snack; Lily… Lily, smiling at him, talking with him. Their first kiss… their last kiss…  
  
The rushing, cool, green light of Death came upon him.  
  
A tear slipped down his cheek and the words "Lily…" were whispered, just before his eyes were filled with green. Then descended black, and the cool, peaceful slumber of Death.  
  
*  
  
She heard it. Even on the other side of three walls, she could still hear it. Spells, words, shouts. Suddenly, his screams filled the air. The sounds of something thrashing about in a hallway. Harry whimpered and clutched at her blouse. She absent-mindedly stroked his soft, black hair as she wound her way through the kitchen. Then, she heard them. The words of dread. The last words that anyone asides from Death Eaters ever hear when facing the Dark Lord. "Avada Kedavra!"  
  
She sobbed and quickened her pace. Dimly, faintly, she heard the sound of something heavy, a body, no doubt, hitting the floor, followed by quick footsteps. Lily broke into a run.  
  
A blast, not unlike a bomb explosion, rang throughout the house. Behind her, a wall burst outward into the kitchen. She was thrown off her feet, hitting the wall to her left, a screaming child in her arms. Another blast. Another tremor. She fell to the ground. A shadow loomed up behind her. Harry ceased his crying to whimper in fear against her chest. She looked fearfully over her shoulder.  
  
The Dark Lord Voldemort loomed over her, a sick sort of smile on his terrible face, his wand pointed directly between her eyes. His eyes were on Harry. Then, she understood. A tremor of fear and pain shook her. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she held fast to Harry.  
  
"No! NO! Not him… Not Harry…" quickly, she poised herself between the wand and her child.  
  
"Silly girl. Move aside."  
  
"No! Not Harry! Not Harry!"  
  
"Move aside, girl. Now!"  
  
"No… Take me… take me instead. Not Harry!"  
  
She heard his voice again, and it was dripping with impatience.  
  
"Move aside, little girl. Now. You need not die like your husband did…"  
  
Lily screamed then. She screamed, as best she could, hoping beyond hope that someone would hear. Harry's screams joined hers. Vaguely, she heard the voice of the Dark Lord. The words "Avada Kedavra!" filled her ears.  
  
"NO! Harry! Not Harry…"  
  
A loud roaring filled her ears, much like the roaring of a great, rushing river. Dimly, she though she could hear a voice, calling to her… his voice…  
  
"James…"  
  
Her vision was obscured by a blinding emerald green light. The roaring grew louder, louder, louder… Then, silence.  
  
*  
  
Little Harry cried. He was scared. Very scared. Mother was afraid. Father was worried. He felt something bad out there.  
  
He was in the hallway. Mother was holding him. Harry could feel it more now. Fear. Worry. Anger. He didn't like.  
  
Then, Father was shouting. Mother was running, crying. They came to the eating room. He heard bad noises. Screams. Father's screams. Mother's crying filled his young ears. Then a big noise, like what the water near home sounded like. A thump. The feeling of Father was gone.  
  
Mother was leaning over him. The feeling of anger was near. That bad, bad feeling. He heard a voice. It felt cold, bad, and angry. For some reason, Harry knew that whoever had that bad voice had probably made the feeling of Father go away.  
  
There was another rushing noise. Mother was screaming. He saw a green light, then Mother stopped. She fell over on her side. Her open eyes stared at him unseeingly. Harry cried.  
  
A dark thing loomed over him. He looked up, still crying. A face –the face- stared down at him. It was the face of one of his bad dreams. This face made the Mother and Father feeling go away. This face wanted him to go away too…  
  
He heard words. Words he couldn't understand. A bright green light came at him, with the sound of a lion's roar. A searing pain touched him on the head. He screamed. It hurt. It really hurt, more than anything did…  
  
Another scream joined his. It was louder, more pain filled, and tinged with fear. The bright green light was on the face! The face screamed and writhed, and the sound of roaring grew louder. Then, all was quiet. Harry cried.  
  
***  
  
Sirius jumped off of the bike before it even came to a stop, his breath caught in his throat, and a strange prickling in the corner of his eyes.  
  
The Potter's house was in ruins. The door was gone, a burning, smoking hole where it used to be. Several of the walls had been blasted in, or had fallen outwards. He looked upwards, and a choked sob escaped his throat.  
  
High above the ruins of his friend's house, was the Dark Mark: A large bright green skull, with a snake protruding from its mouth like a serpentine tongue. That made it very obvious. The Potters were dead.  
  
He shook his head, fighting down the hysteria and grief that threatened to overtake him. He had to make sure.  
  
He ran towards the house, his boots crunching on the gravel and debris. Unlike most wizards, Sirius Black tended to dress like a Muggle biker. Black leather jacket over his short robes, faded blue jeans, with a hole in one knee, and dragon-hide boots. His wand was tucked in an inner pocket, and he kept his hand close to it, just in case…  
  
He entered the ruined doorway, dreading what may lie inside.  
  
The entry hall was empty, or so he thought. It was slightly blackened, and an avalanche of debris –the blasted in wall- blocked the way into the living room. Then, he came upon what he feared most.  
  
James Potter lay sprawled on his back. His wand arm was flung out, and the wand itself was several feet away. His robes in front were slightly singed, and smoking in one small spot. His hair was askew, falling over his pale face. His glasses lay broken on the floor beside him. He stared up unseeingly at the ceiling with lifeless, glassy eyes.  
  
Sirius stepped forward, a kind of numb horror showed in his tan face. He knelt by the body of his friend. With one hand, he gently closed the staring eyes of his oldest, brother-like friend. With the other, he set the broken glasses by his side.  
  
He stood up unsteadily then, his legs suddenly turned to jelly. Dizziness claimed him for several minutes before he was able to proceed. He came upon the blackened, fallen remains of Lily's sparkling joy: the kitchen.  
  
The walls were blasted either in or out. Everywhere he stepped, there was the sound of crunching glass or scraping metal, mixed with the creaking of wood. He approached the area where the back door used to be.  
  
There was nothing more than a large, rather messy hole in the wall, with the hinting of hinges at the sides. Lying not too far from there, was a certain, red-haired body. Lily Potter lay on her side, dead. Her hair was spread out around her like a crimson fan. One of her hands was outstretched, as if trying to grasp hold of something. Her eyes stared straight ahead, a single dried tear stood out on her pale, bloodless cheek.  
  
Sirius stood stock still for several minutes, shaking. A small voice was whispering in his mind, something about Peter, the Dark Lord, and Harry. Right then, the sound of crying reached his ears. It seemed to be coming from the backyard. Without a second thought, which was quite unnatural for Sirius, he bounded out the 'door'.  
  
Harry sat not 10ft away from the house. His messy thatch of black hair was all over his face, and his front was slightly dirty. Sirius made his way to the child's side quickly. Little Harry seemed to sense his approach, for he lifted his head and raised his arms slightly.  
  
Gently, carefully, and almost tenderly, Sirius picked up the small, light baby. Almost immediately, the crying ceased to faint whimpers. Almost immediately, Sirius sank to the ground, just short of falling, had it not been for the fact he held a child. He sobbed hoarsely, absent-mindedly stroking little Harry's head. After a while, Sirius ceased to sob, and stared ahead, whispering a comfort to his godchild all the while.  
  
It was that way that Hagrid found them.  
  
*  
  
"Sirius? Sirius Black? Is that you?"  
  
He came lumbering through, the marks of tears on his shaggy black beard and in his beetle black eyes. His gaze drifted to Harry, who was still crying, but not as hard as before. Sirius stared up at him, a kind of numb understanding in his pale blue eyes. He was pale, and shaking hard. His black hair fell over his face, and there were little black soot marks on his leather jacket.  
  
"Hagrid?" his voice was hoarse, but strong.  
  
Hagrid came forward, and took little Harry out of the younger man's nerveless, shaking hands.  
  
*  
  
Sirius watched as Hagrid mounted his bike. That motorcycle was his pride and joy. Was. Now, it was nothing more than another flying motorbike… a painful memory of days past.  
  
"Are ye sure ye jes' wan' to give it ta me?"  
  
"Go. I have no use for it now."  
  
"Alright then…"  
  
He watched impassively as the bike roared to life and rose steadily into the air. Hagrid looked down on him once more before he left, Harry bundled in his arms, ready for his new home.  
  
Black turned. A fire was smoldering in his eyes. Betrayal. He'd get him, that little, pathetic traitor!  
  
He began to walk into the night, ignoring the fact that Muggles were now gathering around to gawk at the smoldering ruins of the Potter's house.  
  
"Peter… Wormtail… traitorous rat… you'll pay… James… Lily… He will pay…"  
  
No one noticed as the tall dark-haired man Disapparated into the shadows.  
  
*************  
  
That's about as much as I can muster up for the present moment… when my mind is dark, my fics are dark too.  
  
R&R please. It would make me eternally happy, as does a nice cup of cappuccino… 


End file.
